


Lunch Break

by Kocho



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Comedy, Dialogue Heavy, Fridge Logic, Gen, Jill Is Great But Boy Is She Stoic, No Conflict, Possible Chris/Jill, Post-RE5, Random Musings, Two Nobodies Try to Figure Out What Even Happens In This Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26767411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kocho/pseuds/Kocho
Summary: "You ever get the feeling that we're mooks?"Two BSAA agents try to get a grip on their place in the world and the crazy events that seem to pass them by.
Kudos: 7





	Lunch Break

**Author's Note:**

> I hesitate to call this a shitpost in story form, but that might be the most accurate description. Sparked after replaying some of the older Resident Evil games, I wondered what ordinary BSAA agents must think about their jobs and the people they work with.

"You ever get the feeling that we're mooks, Nigel?"

Nigel paused, his burger half-way to his mouth, before asking the only question a person could ask in that situation. "Rich, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Rich had the absolute fucking gall to look offended. "You know, like nobodies. Goons."

Great. Nigel could already tell this was going to be one of Rich's tangents. This was always what happened when they ended up sitting at the canteen together. The BSAA's London office had its share of eccentrics, but Richard Welton was among the worst. Formerly an FBI pencil-pusher and now an agent with the BSAA's fledgling financial crimes investigative unit, he wasn't the type of person that Nigel expected to consistently toss forward the stupidest fucking theories out there.

"Why do you say that, Rich?" he asked, deadpan. Nigel had to humor him. They weren't expected back for another twenty minutes, and if he didn't wear out Rich's mouth here, it would come to bite them in the ass if someone actually important decided to stop by for the afternoon briefing.

"Well it just seems to me like every time we go out into combat, something awful happens and a hundred of us get turned into gribbly monsters."

"I don't really know where to start with that one. I guess we can start with the whole idea of "us" going into combat, considering you've never been on a field assignment. On the other hand, I've been on eight. Seven of which had zero friendly casualties."

"Yeah, well let's consider the Kijuju incident," said Rich.

Ah, incident number eight. "Can we not?"

But Rich was already talking. "Alpha team walked right into a trap. Killed to the last man. Delta got fucking wrecked, and only Redfield and Alomar made it out of Bravo team."

Nigel set down his burger, his smile thin. He had been on the cleanup crew for Kijuju, advising the West African BSAA branch after those scrubs with TerraSave had stormed in to make a mess of everything. Even with the primary threat gone, the casualties had been enormous, the work never-ending. They had hunted down majini stragglers for weeks, each day getting worn down bit by bit.

"You're cherry-picking. It was fucking Uroboros. Fucking Wesker."

"All I'm saying is, look who made it out. Redfield, Alomar, Stone." He paused, then quickly added, "And Valentine too."

"Redfield is Redfield," said Nigel. "The man's a legend."

"More like a fucking action hero," said Rich. "You're really telling me it doesn't weird you out? We just go out there and make him look good."

"That's really, really not how it works," said Nigel. "Redfield has like twenty years of anti-BOW experience. You'd be a fucking badass too if you went through all the shit he did."

"Badass is right. I heard he punched over a boulder."

Nigel rolled his eyes. This shit again. "He did. Broke every bone in his hand too. Didn't realize it until the adrenaline wore off."

"Yeah but he actually punched it over. I guess that's what happens when you have biceps the size of watermelons. I thought those things were fucking tumors when I first saw him. Like, the T-virus does some crazy stuff, but that shit ain't natural man."

"You shoulda seen him when he joined," said Nigel. "I wouldn't call him stick-thin, but he was hardly a meathead."

"Guy puts on muscle quicker than Christian Bale."

"He was in a bad place after the raid on the Spencer estate."

"Oh yeah," Rich snorted. "I always forget about that. Did you ever find out if Valentine actually died? Like _died_ died? Or did that asshole just fake her death?"

"The second one," said Nigel. He glanced around the half-full canteen, hoping that no one was listening in. Valentine's death, rescue, and reinstatement were all touchy subjects among the who's who of the BSAA, and he had no intention of getting on the bad side of someone like Redfield. The guy punched a boulder for Christ's sake.

Sure enough, at the far side of the canteen, sipping on a Capri Sun, was Jill Valentine, engaged in what he assumed was an animated conversation with Parker Luciani. At the very least, it was animated on Luciani's part. As for Valentine, well, she had the best poker face he had ever seen, somewhere between marble statue and the DMV's employee of the month.

"Chick gives me the creeps," muttered Rich.

"Hey, watch what you're saying. That's the boss's main squeeze."

"Wait really? You serious?"

That made Nigel pause and question it himself. "I think so?" he said after a moment of thought. "Kinda hard to tell with them."

"With her, you mean." Rich made an exaggerated shiver. "You know, I have another theory."

"Ri-"

"Maybe we didn't rescue Valentine at all. Maybe she's like a robot or a clone or something."

"You out of your fucking mind?"

"You tell me, asshole. I've never seen her crack a smile. Plus, she was a petite brunette when she died right? Now she's pale as a ghost and a blonde to boot? Smells like a robot to me."

Nigel buried his head in his hands and sighed. If anyone heard this shit, he'd be out on his ass in no time at all. "She's not a fucking. . . It was Wesker. The virus. Virus _es_. Plural. They fucked her up beyond belief and even now, like six years later, the science guys are still unraveling all the shit that she's immune to."

"Maybe Wesker did us a favor then."

"Yeah I wouldn't say shit like that if I were you." Wesker was practically a four-letter word in these parts. Half the BSAA was convinced he was still alive out there, plotting some new and terrible apocalypse. The rest, though they would never admit it, cursed his absence. Without someone to fight, without a bogeyman to call the villain, things could only ever be shades of grey.

Rich shrugged. "Wesker was before my time."

"You read the reports though, right?"

"Yup. From Arklay forward. Dude sounds like a primo asshole. Wore sunglasses at night and had frosted tips in 2009? Bioterrorism aside, the fashion alone justifies blowing him up with a rocket launcher."

That actually got a chuckle out of Nigel. "The volcano wasn't enough. That's for sure. I for one don't miss the asshole."

"Yeah, but it's not like things are any easier now. Every mom and pop terrorist organization has access to the T-Virus these days. And they have absolutely no creativity."

"Creativity?"

"Neo-Umbrella. The organization had nothing to do with Umbrella outside of Umbrella being a company that made a bunch of nasty shit. Like, when you set out to start a terrorist organization, do you just pick up the last morally bankrupt corporation you saw in the news? Nestle has that child slavery shit going on, but could you imagine 'Oh no, watch out for Neo-Nestle!'"

"Sounds funny until Neo-Nestle obliterates Cape Town with some new bullshit virus that turns people into melted choco-monsters."

"Honestly the only good thing about this Umbrella bullshit is that it put basically every pharmaceutical company out there on suicide watch. Every single one of them is audited on a yearly basis, and all those financial statements keep a guy like me fed."

"How altruistic of you, Rich."

He shrugged. "If I was that selfish I wouldn't have applied to a field position. And yet the approval went through last week."

"You, in the field?"

"Was a field agent with the FBI," he said. "Why not the BSAA too? First briefing is right after this."

"Well be sure not to-" Nigel trailed off as a shadow fell across them both. He shifted in his seat to see the lady herself, Jill Valentine standing over them, one hand on her hip, wearing her usual dead-fish expression.

"Welton, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's me," said Rich.

"Chris wants you to bring that new TerraSave report to the briefing. Seems like there will be more to go over than just the news leak."

"Chris, like Chris _Redfield_?" Rich asked, before immediately following up with, "I mean, yeah can do!"

"Great," she said, with all the enthusiasm of a man learning he was due for a prostate exam. She shifted, as though she was set to leave, before she turned back and leaned down. Nigel could just barely detect a wry smile crease her lips as she said, "By the way, I'm not a robot."


End file.
